Necessary Element
by DarcieLeeds
Summary: The 9th Doctor and Rose step into a prickly situation when they stop at a mining colony...
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: Doctor Who and characters are property of the BBC. No infringement is intended._

The sound was absolutely piercing, and she had to cover her ears. It began as a low whine then quickly escalated to a dreadful, shrill screech that was literally painful to the human auditory system. As Rose pressed her hands as tightly as possible over her ears, she wondered whether the Doctor was at all bothered by the noise.

He was crouched beneath the console, aiming his sonic screwdriver at a panel thay lay open spewing wires across the floor. His face showed concentration and growing annoyance, but she could discern no pain in his expression. With a grimace she thought that the discomfort she was experiencing was enough for both of them.

She was about to leave the room when the noise crescendoed then abruptly ceased. He grinned triumphantly for an instant then jumped to his feet, scowling at the instrument in his hand.

"Is it over?" she asked. She thought that she might be shouting, but she wasn't sure; her ears were ringing, and she could barely hear her voice.

He looked up at her quickly then directed his gaze back to the sonic screwdriver. She saw his lips moving, but she could not hear what he said. She came closer.

"What?" She hoped that she could be heard.

His mouth moved again, but all she could make out were a few fuzzy, muffled sounds. She shook her head and pointed at her ears.

"I can't hear you," she said.

When he answered, "There's no need to shout," she thought that he must be ignoring his own advice, because she heard the words—albeit as a whisper. But given the fuzz in her ears, she was sure that he must have yelled in order to be heard.

"Wait a couple of minutes," he said, again probably shouting, at least judging by the slight strain of the muscles around his mouth.

The Doctor turned away to set the screwdriver on the console. He bent over it, fiddling with the case. Rose watched as various lights flashed on the device. Her ears were clearing, and after a short time she could hear him muttering in a language she didn't recognize. She was fairly certain, however, that he was cursing. Somehow expletives sounded nearly the same in any language.

"What happened? What was that noise?" she asked, moving to stand beside him.

He glanced up at her. "You okay?"

She nodded. "Yeah, just about."

"Ears still ringing?"

She shook her head. "No, jus' a bit fuzzy's all."

"It'll pass in a couple more minutes."

"What the hell was that? I never heard anythin' so loud in my life—"

"Yeah, guess you wouldn't have. Sonic screwdriver malfunctioned and blew a coupla solenoids, which made the marucassian circuit loop backwards, an' that set off the—"

"Wish I was still deaf," Rose interjected.

"Be careful what you wish for," the Doctor shot back, then he returned his attention to the sonic screwdriver.

After a few minutes, Rose asked, "Can you fix it?"

"Oh yeah, I can fix it… if I have any porquarnium."

"Pork-what?"

"Porquarnium—the nine hundredth sixty-eigth element on the universal periodic table."

"Chemistry was never my best subject, but I thought the periodic table only had somethin' like a hundred elements."

"On Earth in 2005. By the mid-3000s elements from a thousand other planets will be added."

Rose shrugged. "'Kay. So d'you have of this pork stuff?"

"Porquarnium. An' I don't know. Used to have a little in the lab—dunno if I used it up back in my cricketing days."

"What's cricket have to do with porquarnium?"

"Nothin'. But I used to tinker a lot back then. Never mind." He gave the sonic screwdriver a toss in the air and caught it deftly with a fancy spin as he headed out of the room. "Wonder if I still have any cricket balls around?"

* * *

When the Time Lord returned to the console room half an hour later, Rose could tell immediately that he had not found the element he needed. She looked up from her magazine to see his frown.

"No luck?" she asked.

"Nope." He quickly brightened. "But I know where to get some."

Rose stood up from the sofa. "Yeah? Where's that?"

"Closest planet from here is Cibron-7."

"Then let's go."

He seemed to hesitate for an instant then he walked toward the central console and began pulling at the various levers and flicking switches.

"So what's it like?" she asked.

"What's what like?" he replied absently.

"This planet—Cibron-7."

"Mining colony primarily… wasn't inhabited by humans 'til the porquarnium was discovered there. Now they've got about a dozen mines, maybe five hundred workers, an' a few droids."

"So no weird man-eating creatures or homicidal aliens?"

"Nah, don't think so." He glanced up at her.

The TARDIS shuddered and jerked, but Rose had developed rather impressive balancing skills during her short tenure on the time ship, so she kept her footing. Her ears still felt a bit cottony, but she thought that her hearing was nearly back to normal. However, she was facing the door when the Doctor said, "Not a lot of women there, either. Stick with me if we meet anyone."

She did not hear him.

When they stepped outside, they saw a barren land that seemed composed primarily of large, gray boulders. Flat areas stretched between the rocks, and a few scraggly trees grew up among the cracks. But even the leaves seemed dull and drab. Rose could see no colors that were not some shade of gray.

About two kilometers away a small cluster of buildings surrounded a skeletal metal tower. The Doctor pointed, saying, "This way."

"That's one of the mines?"

"Yep."

They walked briskly until they were close enough to see that the buildings seemed deserted. There was no one about, and the few tools and pieces of equipment that were scattered about as though they had been abandoned rather suddenly.

"Looks like they jus' up an' left," Rose commented.

"Mine must have been stripped. They moved on to the next one."

"So there's no porquarnium here?"

The Doctor stopped for a moment, and Rose nearly bumped into him. "Could be a bit left. I only need a coupla grams. It'd be easier to get it from here anyway."

"Why's that?"

"There's no one to ask for payment or try to stop us."

"Why would they try to stop us?"

"This element's kinda rare and sorta expensive."

"How expensive?"

"D'you have your credit card?"

"Think I left it in the TARDIS. How come?"

"Cause the two grams I need would go for about twenty thousand of your Earth dollars."

Rose gaped for an instant. "Twenty thousand?"

"Yep." He had removed the sonic screwdriver and now held it in his hand, stroking the case with his thumb. "Come on, then." He began walking again.

Rose trotted behind. "So you're just gonna take it?"

He shrugged. She was still behind him, and she couldn't hear his response in full. To her it sounded like, "Ut hey dough oh—urt em."

She caught his arm. "What?"

He looked down at her. "What they don't know won't hurt 'em." He paused again. "Ears still fuzzy?"

"A little, I guess."

He lifted the sonic screwdriver then lowered his hand. "Wish this was workin'. I could stabilise your hearing in a coupla seconds."

"It'll be fine—just need some time."

He nodded. "Yeah."

They reached the mine in a few minutes. All seemed quiet, and a quick investigation of the buildings confirmed that the little complex was deserted. They found two buildings that had been sleeping quarters, one that had served as a kitchen and mess hall, another two that had probably been offices of some sort, a small infirmary, and a couple of storage facilities.

Rose stood looking at one of the dormitories. "'S funny," she said. "They've left a lot of their stuff."

The Doctor had stepped inside the office next door, but he poked his head out to ask, "Yeah? Like what?"

"There's some clothes, some shaving stuff, shampoo… Looks like they left in a hurry."

The Doctor said, "They left some things in here, too."

"Why d'you think they left so fast?"

"Don't know. It could've been anything—another mine might've opened up an' they left to be the first ones there."

"But wouldn't they have come back for their stuff?"

"Maybe not. Depends how far away the other mine was. If competition for jobs was tough, they might just stay there to keep their new positions."

Rose and the Doctor made their way to the mine shaft that lay beneath the tower. A system of pulleys had been used to raise the ore up out of the mine. Peering down the dim shaft, the Doctor estimated that the veins lay about five meters below the surface.

"There's probably a system of tunnels down there," he said. "You can lower me down and I'll have a look." He was already reaching for one of the heavy chains that hung from the supports at the top of the tower.

"You'll need some light," Rose said. She returned to one of the offices to search for a torch or lantern.

The Doctor examined the pulley and the chains, twisting the crank to be sure it was operational and that Rose would be able to work it. It was a bit tight, but he found a half-full oil can nearby and poured some lubricant over the workings. It dripped down the chain, pooling on the ground. However, it had served its purpose; the crank was loose enough for Rose to turn easily.

As he was leaning over the shaft, the Time Lord felt a puff of air, almost like a small breeze. He peered into the darkness, trying to figure out where the air had come from. It smelled slightly stale, rather dusty, and faintly herbal. If air was moving through the shaft, there must be openings in other places.

He walked off a few meters to explore, clambering up onto a boulder to look out over the land. He could see ventilation holes stretching out for several kilometers; this meant that the mine shaft stretched out beneath him for some distance.

Rose returned to the tower with a torch in her hand. She was surprised to find that the Doctor had disappeared. She took a few steps toward the shaft, calling, "Doctor!" down into the darnkess.

From his position atop the boulder, the Time Lord saw Rose standing by the shaft. She was leaning over, looking down inside. Next to her feet lay the puddle of oil, slick on the surface of the rock.

"Rose! Watch out!" he yelled, already climbing down from his perch.

Rose could not hear the Doctor, but when she felt her foot slip she reached out automatically. Her fingers brushed the chain that hung from the pulley, but somehow it seemed to elude her grasp. In an instant she had leaned further toward it, and her foot slid out from under her completely. She groped again for the chain, grabbing it finally as she tumbled toward the shaft. She gripped at the chain with both hands before realizing that it was covered in oil. Her hands slid down, pulled by the momentum of her body. Frantically she reached for the hook at the end of the chain, her right palm hitting the sharp tip. A stab of pain throbbed through her, but she ignored it as she tried to grasp the hook with her left hand.

The oil had made her hands too slick. She lost her tenuous grip on the hook and, with a scream of primal fear, she plummeted into the depths of the mine shaft.


	2. Chapter 2

The Doctor began running the moment he saw Rose stumble, but he did not reach the shaft in time to keep her from falling. He dropped to his knees at the edge, calling her name into the darkness. His voice echoed back eerily, and again he felt that strange puff of air.

There was no answer to his calls. He tried not to think about how deep the shaft was or how hard the stone surface at the bottom would be. He tried not to visualize what happened to human bones when they struck such a surface, and he tried not to calculate the physics equations that told him precisely what force would result when a one-hundred-ten pound object fell a minimum of ten meters…

After a moment he reached for the chain and began to crank the pulley. The torch lay on the ground, somehow switched on when it fell from Rose's hand. The beam shone off the edge of the pit, providing a dull light that disappeared about a meter down.

"Rose!" the Doctor called again, directing the light downward. He saw nothing but the beam.

In the few seconds during which she fell, Rose thought about her mother and how she would feel when the Doctor returned to tell her of her daughter's death. She could almost hear the sound of the slap that Jackie would deliver to the Time Lord's face… And then she felt sorry: sorry for the pain that Jackie would experience, sorry for her own loss, for the places that she would never see, the new planets, the different times, all expostulated so enthusiastically by the Doctor. And she wondered for an instant what he would feel when he discovered that she was dead.

But then she stopped falling. Her feet did not hit the hard stone, as she'd anticipated. Instead, she felt herself caught in something dense and prickly. It smelled faintly herbal, and definitely leafy, and a bit fleshy.

Rose tried to move her arms and hands to touch whatever it was that had ensnared her, but her arms were pinned to her side. She was held tightly, something sturdy wrapping around her even as she tried to shift her body. The grip was tightening, and little sharp pricks accompanied this constriction, stabbing at her face and hands and ankles. Her tank top had ridden up, exposing her belly, and she winced as a particularly sharp jab poked at the tender skin there.

She began to wriggle in earnest, feeling herself gripped even tighter. It was becoming hard to breathe. Still she forced herself to inhale then yelled, "Doctor!" with her exhalation. Her voice echoed against the walls, confusing her senses as his name seemed to resound dully all around her. If he answered her, she could not hear it.

"Rose!" The Doctor had heard her cry, relief washing over him when he realized that she was still alive.

"Are you all right?" he called down, but she did not respond.

He remembered that her hearing was still slightly impaired, and he kicked himself mentally for exposing her to the noise that had altered her senses. Well, it couldn't be helped now; he would just have to try to communicate another way.

Quickly he wiped the oil from the chain and the hook then turned the crank to lower the hook into the shaft. Once it had begun its descent, he turned the handle more slowly, hoping that Rose would be able to grab it when it reached her. He could only assume that she had managed to catch something on the way down. If she had fallen all the way to the bottom it was doubtful that she'd be able to call his name.

He held the torch in his other hand, directing the beam downward in the faint hope that it might illuminate the darkness for Rose so that she could see the hook.

The edge of the light reached Rose. She squinted, trying to discern what held her. She thought she could see leaves. And soon she saw something dangling in front of her. She realized that it was the hook from the pulley. It was lowering slowly, passing her face then her shoulders. She needed to grab it, to let the Doctor know that she had it, but her arms were still firmly pinned.

"Stop!" she called, tilting her head up so that the sound would carry better.

The chain's movement ceased, and it lay suspended before her. She wiggled her arms, but whatever held her was unrelenting.

"A little lower!" she yelled, "just about half a meter!"

The hook moved, stopping near her right hand. She twisted her body, fingers reaching for the hook. They brushed against it, and she mustered enough strength to force her hand outward so that her fingers could wrap around the thick metal.

"Got it!" she cried.

Almost immediately she felt the hook move upward. She kept her grip, fingers aching with the effort as her body remained still. She hoped that the Doctor's strength would be sufficient to pull her from whatever it was that held her.

The hook was tugging against her grasp, and she groaned with the task of holding it. Her hand began to slip, but by sheer force of will she tightened her fingers again. For nearly a minute she felt as though she were the rope in a tug of war. Her hand and arm were pulled nearly from their sockets, and she couldn't help but cry out in pain and frustration.

"Pull harder!" she gasped out.

Whatever held her was making a supreme effort to pull her back down, lower into the shaft. It was wrapped around her so fiercely that she found it difficult to breathe. She was starting to feel dizzy… and panic was quickly rising as she understood how insistently her captor was working.

But the Time Lord was working equally hard, cranking at the handle with all his strength, determined to pull Rose up. After several minutes he felt a slight give in the chain.

Something scraped against Rose's face, hands, stomach, and ankles as she finally felt her body slide out of the iron grip. It was as though she'd been held in some sort of strange, prickly cocoon, and now she popped free of it.

She lifted her other hand to grab the hook, ignoring the numbness that had set in. The Doctor had dropped the torch some time ago in his efforts to turn the crank, so Rose was in complete darkness. She wasn't sure if her numb fingers had actually gripped the hook, but she hoped they had.

She felt her body rising quickly, and she when she looked up she saw light. She drew a breath, finally.

When the hook appeared, gripped by Rose's white-knuckled hands, the Doctor took a breath, too. She was alive and would be safe in a moment. Her hands were criss-crossed with scrapes that stood out lividly against the pale skin, and when he anchored the chain and reached for her arms to pull her up and out of the shaft he saw that her face was similarly marred. She was ashen, and her eyes were large, and he did not realize that he was hugging her too hard until she began gasping for breath.

He led her away from the shaft, keeping his arm around her because he could sense that her legs were wobbly and because he needed another moment to feel that she was safe beside him. She was breathing heavily, though, gulping in the air, and she was close to hyperventilating.

He stopped and gently lowered her to the ground, crouching before her with his hands on her shoulders.

"Rose," he said evenly, working to keep his voice calm, "just breathe shallowly—small breaths."

"But," she gasped out, "it held me—so tightly—that I—couldn't breathe."

"But you can now, and you don't need to work so hard at it. Little breath in—that's it, through the nose, not the mouth." He lifted his hand toward her lips, but she closed them. "Good. In again, now out."

In a minute she was breathing more normally, and the color was returning to her cheeks. Blood was seeping from the scrapes, and now that he could take a moment to look at her closely he could see that there were several punctures on her face, too.

He took her hand and helped her to stand. A misty drizzle had begun, and dark clouds overhead promised to bring heavier rain soon. He began walking, keeping a hand at her back.

"What happened down there?" he asked. "What did you manage to catch on to?"

"I didn't catch onto anything. Something caught on to me."

He looked at her with surprise. "Yeah? What was it?"

She shook her head. "Dunno. But it held me tighter an' tighter and didn't seem to want to let me go."

"Is that what scratched you?"

She lifted her hand to examine the marks. "Yeah."

They were back at the small compound, and he steered her toward the little infirmary, watching her all the while. His eyes flicked to the hood that hung over her back, and he reached inside to remove something.

"What's this?" He held a small grayish object in his hand.

Rose looked at it. "Looks sorta like a leaf."

"Yep." He tucked it into his pocket as he opened the door.

He sat Rose on one of the two cots then rummaged about in the cabinets. After a minute he returned to her, carrying a bottle of alcohol and some cotton swabs.

"Fraid this is the best I can do for now," he said rather apologetically. "I wanna get those scrapes cleaned out as soon as possible." He tried to keep the concern from his voice as his eyes swept the rapidly reddening edges of the little wounds.

He helped Rose to remove her hoodie, glad to see that the areas of her body that had been covered by clothing seemed to have been spared from the wicked scratches and punctures. He dabbed an alcohol-soaked swab at the deepest scratch on her cheek. She winced at the sting but remained quiet. For a few moments the rain pounding on the thin, metal roof was the only sound they heard.

When he felt satisfied that the scratch was clean, the Doctor took out the sonic screwdriver and switched it on.

"What're you doing with that?" Rose asked dubiously.

"You'll see," he replied rather obliquely. His grin told her that he had something in mind that pleased him.

"But I thought it was broken—"

"Well, sorta. The lower settings are still functioning, and that's all I need for this." He held the device over her cheek, and she felt a tiny tingling on the wound he had just cleaned.

He grabbed a hand mirror from the bedside table and held it up to her face. She was surprised to see that the area he had just worked on was smooth and unmarred.

"How'd you do that?" she asked.

"Dermal regenerator function." He held up the screwdriver proudly.

"So why use the alcohol if you can jus' do that?"

"Stings a bit, doesn't it? Sorry about that, but it's better if the wounds are clean before I close them. An' since we don't know exactly what did this, I wanna be sure that I remove anything nasty it might've left behind."

"Like what sorta nasty?"

He shrugged more casually than necessary. "Probably just a slight skin irritant. Nothin' to worry about."

He cleaned then closed all of the wounds on her face. The little punctures weren't deep, nor were the scratches, and after the screwdriver's treatment all of the redness disappeared. He moved on to her hands.

It took the Doctor a few minutes to be impressed by Rose's stoicism. She had flinched slightly when the alcohol touched the first couple of scratches, but now she remained still, watching his fingers as he carefully wiped the disinfectant over each mark on her left hand then repaired each with the sonic screwdriver. When he took her right hand in his, however, she did wince, and he turned it over to see the gash on her palm.

"This one's a lot deeper," he commented.

"It's from the hook," she explained briefly. "I tried to grab it when I fell."

He nodded. "Must've hurt." Before she could reply, he looked up at her and added, "Sorry you fell. It was my fault—I should've cleaned up the oil."

She smiled thinly. "It's not like you left it there on purpose."

He quirked an eyebrow at her. "I tried to warn you, but you didn't hear me. How're your ears now?

She thought for a moment. "Okay, I think."

"You sure?" he whispered.

Now it was her turn to lift an eyebrow. "Yeah."

He returned his attention to her hand, cleaning the gash thoroughly then healing it quickly with the screwdriver. In a few minutes he'd finished with the scratches and he moved on to her ankles.

"Not a mark left," he finally said with a rather pompous grin.

Rose shook her head. "It got my stomach, too." She lifted up the hem of her tank top to reveal several scratches and pricks.

"Those look painful." He moved around to view her lower back; there was only one long scratch there. He worked on it first then had her lie back so that her stomach was smooth and taut.

The alcohol felt especially cold against the delicate skin, and she flinched in spite of herself. He worked gently, aware of the tenderness, and soon he had cleaned and healed the scratches. The punctures, he found, were much deeper than those on her face and hands. He pressed his fingers lightly over one midway between her hipbone and naval

Unexpectedly she cried out and tried to push his hand away. He looked up; her face had paled.

"Sorry," she muttered, "didn't mean to do that." She pulled her hand back and clenched it at her side.

He twisted the end of the screwdriver; it began to emit a low whir. He held the instrument over the wound, watching as its tiny lights flickered blue and white. Rose lifted her head to watch, surprised that the wound was still visible and remained painful after he'd switched off the screwdriver.

"What were you doing?" she asked.

He was fiddling with the end of the device again, readjusting the setting. "Nothin' really."

His expression was too unconcerned, even for a Time Lord.

"Tell me," she said.

"Just assessing how deep it is."

"An' how deep is it?"

"Not too. But the regenerator at this strength can only penetrate a coupla centimeters, so I can't close it beneath the dermal layer. It's probably going to be a little sore below the surface."

She nodded and he swabbed the wound as gently as he could then aimed the screwdriver's beam at it. When he had finished he rested two fingers over the area with light pressure. "Does it still hurt?"

She shook her head. "Just a little."

"Only two more to go, an' I don't think they're quite as deep. Ready?"

"Yeah."

When he looked up at her a minute later, he saw that she was biting her lip. He gave her hand a quick squeeze. "All done."

She sat up, her hand moving automatically to her belly. He thought that the motion had caused her some pain, but she smiled at him as she ran her hand over the smooth flesh then pulled her shirt back down.

"Thanks. I didn't know you could do stuff like that."

He grinned unabashedly. "Me, I can fix almost anything."

The room was chilly; a damp draft swirled under the thin door. Rose pulled her knees up and wrapped her arms around her legs. "So whad' d'we do now? You still need the pork stuff."

"Porquarnium." He emphasized the syllables, but he could tell from her expression that she'd already memorized the correct pronunciation. "After it stops raining, I'll go down into the shaft and see if I can find any remains. Just a bit of the dust would do."

"What about the thing that caught me?"

"If I see it I'll be sure to send your thanks."

She smiled briefly. "Yeah. Really, Doctor, if I'd stayed there any longer it would've squeezed me to death. I couldn't breathe—"

He reached into his pocket and pulled out the leaf he'd plucked from her clothes, studying it silently for a moment.

Rose leaned over to examine it. "So it was a plant. 'Spose that makes sense, really. It smelled sorta like one—kinda leafy, yeah?"

"Could be a distant relative of the Venus flytrap."

"Those close up around insects, don't they?"

"Yep. Then they suck out the juices—"

She shivered. "Is that what it was tryin' to do? I mean when it poked me?"

"I dunno. Probably not. The constrictive activity was probably just a natural defense mechanism, an' the thorns are a part of it."

Rose thought for a few seconds. "Weird, innit? That a plant could grow down there. Plants need light, don't they?"

The Doctor nodded. "Interesting observation. Yeah, they do—usually. There're some smaller shafts that probably ventilate the main one. Maybe the plant started growing by one of them." He looked up at the roof. "Rain's stopped. You feelin' up to another walk out there?"

She swung her legs over the edge of the cot. "Yeah."

But when she stood he could see her face twitch slightly. She seemed to hold her body more gingerly than usual. Still, he needed her help to get into and out of the shaft.

"We can go back to the TARDIS if you want," he said. "I can heal those punctures completely—"

"No, 'sokay, I'm fine."

He nodded in approval. "Good—thought that's what you'd say."

But as he opened the door, she reached for his arm. "Wait. Whatever's down there almost killed me. I don't think you should risk goin' into the shaft."

"I'll try a coupla of the smaller ones first."

"Yeah, good."

He took her hand as they walked out toward the mine again.

The Doctor retrieved the torch at the edge of the main shaft then led Rose to the ventilation shaft he'd found earlier. He crouched by the edge and shone the torch's beam into the darkness. Rose watched as he repositioned himself on his stomach, stretching his arm down into the hole and craning his neck to see what the light could reveal.

"Be careful!" she warned, afraid that he might slip and fall in. She knelt next to his legs and placed her hand on his ankle as a precaution.

After a moment he pulled his shoulders back and turned onto his side with a grin. "It's only about two meters deep here, an' there's a ladder goin' part way up the side. They probably used this shaft for access to the deeper tunnels. I'm goin' down."

He shifted around so that he legs dangled over the edge.

"Did you see the plant?" she asked.

He shook his head. "Nope. Didn't really think I would… it's half a kilometer from the main shaft to here. That'd be a really big plant."

"Well be careful anyway," she said.

"You know me—" he began, but she just rolled her eyes as he slipped down into the shaft. "I'll be back out in a coupla minutes," he called back up.

Rose looked up at the gray sky. The clouds foretold more rain, and the air was getting even chillier. She wished she'd brought a jacket from the TARDIS. But the Doctor would return in a few minutes, hopefully with the porquarnium, and they could go back to the TARDIS. She wondered if she could see it from here.

She stood with a small grimace of pain and turned to gaze out over the land. Beyond one of the many rock formations she could just glimpse a hint of blue amid the drab surroundings. As she turned back to the shaft, a movement near the compound caught her eye. She walked a few paces, watching the edge of the building nearest the main shaft; she was certain that was where she'd seen the movement. But now there was nothing. She wondered whether there were animals in the area. Perhaps that was what she had seen, or maybe it was just the wind blowing an empty bottle or paper along…

She turned back to the shaft and sat down to wait for the Doctor.

* * *

The shaft was dark, and the torch seemed to be dimming. The Doctor shook it several times, but the beam did not change. Well, he knew where the ladder was; as long as he could see the glow of light from the top of the shaft he could return easily.

He had walked perhaps twenty meters, searching the walls with the light, hoping to see a few traces of porquarnium. Thus far he'd found nothing. But he realized that the primary veins could lie closer to the main shaft, so he continued walking toward it. He could tell that the tunnel led back in that direction, and he felt sure that his guess about its use was correct.

As a bit of air moved through the tunnel, probably a consequence of the wind on the surface, he caught a whiff of the odor he'd sensed earlier. It smelled like soil and stone—he could detect flint and maybe a trace of halite. But there was another smell, one that he felt was distinctly organic.

He kept moving, and the smell grew slightly stronger. It was almost herbal, yet it seemed to have the muskiness of an animal. He stopped for a moment to take a deep breath, allowing his heightened senses to process the scents. His nose wrinkled involuntarily: He smelled decay.

* * *

Rose was hugging her knees to her chest in an effort to keep warm. The wind had intensified, and it was blowing all around her, whistling past her ears in cold gusts. She stared at the ventilation shaft, willing the Doctor to return so that they could go back to the TARDIS and get out of the wind. She felt a bit achy, too, and her stomach muscles were tight, as though she'd had a really intense workout with a bunch of ab crunches.

She began imagining a lovely hot, steamy bath. The water would envelop her, warming her and loosening the knots. And after she finished her long, luxurious bath, she'd have a nice cup of hot cocoa… maybe even some of those little marshmallows that got all melty around the edges from the heat—if she could find any in the TARDIS's kitchen.

When she heard the crunch of feet on loose gravel, she thought at first that the Doctor was just beneath her, shuffling up to the ladder. She leaned forward for an instant before she realized that the noise came from behind her.

Rose twisted her head around and gasped in surprise when she saw the four men moving toward her. They were coming from the cluster of buildings, and she realized immediately that she must have seen one of them a few minutes before. Their expressions were stony, and their movements struck her as harsh; they must be angry at finding a trespasser. All were dressed in the loosely fitting coveralls that she'd seen in the living quarters—standard attire for miners, she presumed.

"Hello," she called in as amiable a voice as she could muster. She stood quickly, ignoring the twinge in her belly.

The men did not respond to her greeting, but they continued walking toward her. Their expressions did not change, either.

"I was jus' waitin' for a friend," she tried to explain, looking back at the shaft. "He's gone in to get somethin'—"

Still her comments elicited no reply.

"Doctor!" she called, trying to direct her voice down into the shaft. "Doctor! We've got company!"


	3. Chapter 3

The Doctor estimated that he'd walked about half a kilometer; he was nearing the large shaft, and here he found pieces of equipment strewn about. Like the personal items in the buildings, these tools appeared to have been abandoned hastily. He bent to lift a pick, inspecting the tip carefully in case any porquarnium still clung to it. Unfortunately, it had been wiped clean.

He shone the dim beam ahead. There were more tools lying about, but up ahead, just a few meters away, there was something else. It was large, covering a good portion of the floor and stretching up the wall. He moved closer, and he noticed that the smell had grown much stronger. His foot crunched over something; he squatted down and focused the faltering beam on a leafy stalk.

"Doctor!" Rose's voice was faint, echoing slightly through the tunnel. The Time Lord stood and took a few steps back in the direction from which he'd come. "Doctor! We've got company!"

"Damn!" he muttered as he hurried back along the tunnel.

The tendril that stretched out for his leg was too slow; by the time it reached the spot where he'd stood, he was gone. The leaves and thorns quivered and retreated back to the root cluster, writhing around the bodies that lay decomposing among the heavy vines.

* * *

"Look, we're not doin' anything wrong," Rose faltered, trying to back away as the men surrounded her.

One of them reached for her arm, clamping his hand around it painfully.

"Hey! You're hurtin' me!" she protested, trying to pull away. But his grip only strengthened.

"I'm sorry we used your stuff," she tried again. "The Doctor'll replace it, if tha's what you're worried about."

The men watched her, their eyes running up and down her body. She had been ogled by men before, but these looks were different. They were more appraising, more critical somehow. And for some reason it made her more uncomfortable than the most brazen leer.

A second man took her other arm, and they began pulling her away.

"Wait a minute!" she cried. "Stop it! Where're you takin' me?"

They remained silent as they walked, dragging her along with unwilling steps.

"Stop right there!" the Doctor's voice boomed from the shaft.

Rose looked back over her shoulder to see him emerging from the pit, arms on the edge to support himself. His face was dark with anger. "Let her go!"

To Rose's great surprise, the men released her, and she ran back to the shaft, where the Doctor was just struggling to lift himself out. She reached out for his arm, but he was already swinging his legs up. In a moment he stood next to her, gently gripping her arms.

"Are you all right?" He bent toward her, his eyes boring into hers.

"Yeah."

He dropped his hands. "Good." His gaze moved to the men, who were walking briskly toward the compound.

"Come on," he said, taking her hand. "Let's find out who they are and what they wanted."

They watched the men as they entered one of the buildings. It took the Doctor and Rose a minute or two to reach the compound, and when they entered the building they found no sign of the men.

"Where'd they go?" Rose asked in confusion.

The building only had one door, which had been visible to them as they walked. The Doctor was looking in the cupboard and under the beds while Rose inspected the window. It was small, less than half a meter wide, and she doubted that a man's shoulders could fit through it, but is was the only other exit point in the building, as far as she could tell.

"They must've gone out through here," the Doctor said, joining her. "There's nothin' in the floor…"

"But it's so small," she said, holding out her hands to assess the width of his shoulders then turning toward the window. "They'd never fit through."

"They must've," he shrugged. "There's no other possibility." He was already peering out through the heavy plastic, trying to catch a glimpse of the men. He hurried to the door and went outside, followed closely by Rose, but a search of the complex showed that the men had gone.

"Where would they go?" Rose asked as they looked out over the land.

"Maybe the next mine," the Doctor suggested. He turned back to face her. "What did they want with you?"

She rubbed at her arms; they were still sore where the men had gripped her. "I dunno. They didn't say anything."

"Nothin' at all?"

She shook her head. "Not a word. I tried to talk to them, but they just grabbed me an' tried to drag me away."

"Where were they taking you?"

"I dunno. Back here, maybe. So, did you find any porquarnium down there?"

"No, not a trace. But I think I found what caught you."

"Yeah?" she asked with interest. "What was it then?"

"Definitely a plant of some sort. I didn't get a chance to have much of a look at it."

He began walking, away from the buildings and the mine.

"Where're you off to now?"

"Hafta find some porquarnium. We just hafta check the next mine."

"An' how d'y' know where that is?"

He turned back to grin at her. "Checked the scanners when we landed. Next mine's about three kilometers in this direction." He pointed straight ahead and continued walking.

After a moment he realized that Rose wasn't following him. He turned around to find her standing staring at the mine, one hand pressed against her stomach.

"Rose, you okay?" he called back.

She blinked at him and nodded. "Yeah. Just thinkin' about…" her voice trailed off.

"About what?"

She shook her head. "Nothin'."

"Well, come on then," he urged.

She nodded and began walking to catch up with him. He noticed that her pace was deliberate; there was no haste in her step. She kept her hand on her stomach. He walked back a few steps to meet her.

"You really okay?" he asked again.

Brow wrinkled, she gave him a half-smile. "Yeah, 'course I am."

"Your stomach still hurt?" He glanced at her hand. "That one puncture was pretty deep. Maybe I should have another look at it—"

"No, 's fine. It's just the feeling I think—of knowin' that it was there."

He wrapped his arm around her shoulder companionably. "Come on, then. Let's try to make it to the next mine before the rain starts again."

Despite the smile she gave him, he was certain that he felt her balk for just a moment as he began to walk.

* * *

Rose's stomach had tightened uncomfortably during the first few minutes of their walk. She felt as though the muscles were cramping, and it bordered on painful. However, as they moved along she felt somewhat better. Perhaps the physical activity was loosening her muscles.

It was drizzling again. Fortunately the heavy rain stayed away. The Doctor was looking ahead, trying to find signs of the men, and, she was sure, to evaluate any potential dangers. As they approached the little group of buildings that flanked the mine, she saw that they were dilapidated. Several of the roofs were starting to cave in, and rust seemed to cover nearly every object in sight.

"I don't think they came here," she said.

"Doesn't look like it, but you never know. Come on, let's have a look around."

He cheerfully sauntered off toward the nearest building while she took a moment to catch her breath. The sky was darkening, and it was becoming difficult to see. It had grown much colder, too, and she realized that she was shivering.

She hurried toward the building the Doctor had entered. He stood inside, just lighting a lantern. It reminded her of the old kerosene lamps she'd seen in antique shops. It cast a yellow glow around the room, creating odd shadows along the walls. Rose shivered again.

He had turned back to look at her, catching her shudder. "You cold?" he asked.

"A little. It's gettin' really dark out."

"Yeah, it'll be night soon."

"Shouldn't we get gettin' back to the TARDIS then?"

"Let's just be sure there's no one here," he said, stepping outside with the lantern. Rose trudged along beside him as he poked his head into each building in turn. Most were uninhabitable, but two still had solid roofs and functioning doors. Few items had been left at this camp; indeed, aside from a couple of lanterns and a bed or two, the former inhabitants had apparently taken all of their possessions along with them.

"D' y'think there's any porquarnium here?" Rose asked as they explored the final building.

The Time Lord shook his head. "I doubt it. They've cleaned everything out, so it's unlikely they'd leave any ore. The other mine didn't have any traces left… But I suppose it's worth a look in the morning."

"Let's go, then." Rose had already begun to walk.

"Rose!" The Doctor's hand caught her arm, and the sudden touch surprised her.

She stopped and turned to him. She was about ten meters outside the complex. Funny, she'd just been standing next to one of the buildings…

The Doctor had taken her shoulders and was leaning in to look at her, squinting in the darkness and blinking at the rain that washed over his eyes. "It's dark, an' it's raining hard. Let's go back inside and wait 'til morning."

"No, we have to go back," she began, twisting away from him, her arm stretching out as though she wanted to touch something.

"Rose!"

His hands were on her shoulders again, turning her back, leading her toward the nearest building. Rain was falling hard now, and she was quickly becoming soaked. Her stomach ached, and all she wanted was to go back, to get back to the—

"Hey, Rose, come on." The Doctor had steered her inside. It was quite dark, and she realized that the lantern had gone out. He lit it again and set it on a shelf.

"You're shaking," he said, standing before her again. He took her hand in his. "You're freezing. You've gotta get out of these wet clothes."

"No, I'm okay," she protested feebly. Her chattering teeth seemed to think otherwise.

He turned away for a moment, slipping off his leather jacket then removing his jumper. When he turned back she saw that he wore a gray t-shirt. He handed her the jumper.

"Put this on. It's still dry."

She held the item for a moment, staring at it blankly.

"Come on," he urged, nodding at the jumper. "Oh," he rolled his eyes good-naturedly, "spose you want me to turn around."

He walked toward the small counter across the room and began rummaging about beneath it. A particularly fierce chill coursed through Rose, and she spurred herself to action, removing her sodden hoodie and tank top and wriggling into the jumper.

After a minute or two the Doctor returned to her, frowning in disapproval. "Your shoes are soaked—jeans too."

She glanced down. "Yeah." She tried to smile feebly.

Still frowning, he took her arm gently and led her to the one chair that remained in the room. He sat her down and knelt before her, taking her foot in his hands. He removed her shoes and socks, pausing for a moment to wrap his fingers around her feet; they felt like ice against his skin.

"Come on, Rose. Jeans." He stood. "Unless you want me to help with those, too."

She began to stand, but the muscles in her stomach protested rather ferociously, and she grimaced, trying to suppress a groan. She remained seated for another few seconds. Thankfully the Doctor had turned around again to shake out his jacket, so he did not see her face. Slowly she stood and unfastened the snap and zipper on her jeans then slid the wet garment off. Bending to tug at the legs caused another complaint from her stomach, and she exhaled a bit too forcefully.

"Hey, you all right?" The Doctor was standing before her again, looking at her with concern.

She had managed to kick off her jeans and was rubbing at her stomach. "Jus' a bit hungry's all."

He inclined his head toward the chair, and she sat down again. He carefully draped his jacket over her legs; his jumper only covered them to the mid-thigh. "I'll see if I can find anything that's still edible," he said. As an afterthought he reached into one of the jacket pockets and pulled out a small chocolate bar.

"This'll have to do for now." He pressed the candy into her hand then left.

Rose began to unwrap the chocolate, but the first whiff made her stomach lurch unpleasantly. She tucked the candy back into the pocket and allowed her gaze to wander to the door. The Doctor had taken the lantern, and it was very dark inside the building. Still, she knew where the door was. She imagined her hand turning the rusty knob, then she would step outside, into the cold night air, and begin to walk back, to get closer, and then to return to where she was supposed to be.

She began to stand, but a sharp pain throbbed through her abdomen. Reluctantly she sat back down, the Doctor's jacket lying on the floor at her feet. She rested her hand on her stomach, massaging for a moment. Her expression froze, and her hand stopped moving. Slowly she slid it down to the hem of the jumper then slipped it underneath to move up to her belly. With tentative fingers she felt about the area. There was something different, something that had never been there before… The punctures must have left some swelling or some sort of bruise beneath the surface.

The door swung open, and the Doctor bustled inside, flooding the room with light. Rose squinted at the sudden brightness. She forgot for an instant that her arm had pulled the jumper up; her hip was exposed on the right side. The Doctor looked away quickly, setting a bundle down on the counter before he turned back to her.

She had smoothed the jumper back down, but her legs were still bare.

"I found a blanket," he reported, "an' a tin of tea. Not the freshest, I reckon, but it'll do."

"Yeah," she replied absently, "good."

"How was the chocolate?"

"Fine."

He was removing items from the bundle. After a few moments he came back to her, holding the blanket. Noticing his jacket on the floor, he scowled. "That was supposed to keep you warm."

"What? That tatty old thing?" she joked wanly.

Rather affronted, the Doctor retrieved his jacket as he handed her the blanket. He donned the coat quickly. "It was an expensive jacket," he protested firmly.

She shook her head. "If y' say so."

"Did you manage to warm up?" He reached for her hand; it was still cold.

"A bit."

"Keeping your legs covered would've helped," he remonstrated mildly. Remembering her pose when he entered, he asked, "Are the punctures still bothering you?"

She shrugged, eyes wandering to the door again. "No, not really."

"Rose." His voice had grown serious. "Tell me the truth."

She looked back at him. He was worried about something; that much was clear from his expression. She recalled that he'd been concerned about the depth of the punctures, and about his inability to heal them completely. Still, she felt reluctant to mention what she'd felt; something seemed to keep her from telling him. Finally she replied, "'S fine, really. It's jus' the thought of it—that somethin' was pokin' into me. Weird, y'know?"

He nodded. "Yeah."

He returned to the counter, and she heard him fiddling with something, but her mind quickly wandered elsewhere. When he brought her a cup of tea, she was surprised, to say the least.

"Thanks," she said, taking the mug from him.

He waited for a few seconds then asked, "Don't you wanna know how I heated it up?"

She looked up at him and asked tiredly, "How'd you heat it up then?"

He launched into an explanation that involved the sonic screwdriver, kerosene, and a pie tin, but she barely listened. She was thinking about feeling the ground beneath her feet as she walked, her feet carrying her back to where she needed to be.

"Why don't you get some sleep," the Doctor was saying, urging her to stand with a hand at her elbow.

She found that the blanket had been removed from her legs and folded over the bed. Funny, she didn't remember him doing that… And she really wasn't tired. She was ready to go. But he was tucking her into the blanket, putting his rolled-up jacket beneath her head, and he was looking her with a curious expression on his face. She smiled thinly and offered a cursory "thanks" then closed her eyes.

* * *

Rose had fallen asleep almost immediately. The Doctor sat in the chair, watching her. She lay on her side, curled slightly inward with her face toward him. It was her expression that held his attention. He had seen her sleeping before, and, like nearly all humans, her features softened and relaxed during slumber. But now her brow was slightly creased and her muscles appeared tight, as though she were carrying some significant tension beneath the surface. He wondered if traveling through space and time was beginning to affect her.

When she sat up in the darkness and put her feet on the floor, he thought that she had awakened. He began to speak to her, but she was staring straight ahead with unseeing eyes. She stood and began shuffling toward the door as he watched her with interest. She was sleepwalking, of course, and he observed her silently until she placed her hand on the doorknob. He hurried toward her and gently steered her back to the bed.

Somnambulists were normally quite passive, but he found her resistant when he tried to ease her back down onto the thin mattress. She seemed to lock her legs into a standing position, and she actually pressed her hands against his chest in an attempt to push him away. He could feel her efforts to move forward, but he held her a bit more firmly.

Finally he spoke, a single firm word: "Rose."

She blinked at him, half-awake. That was all he needed, and he easily lowered her to the bed.

"Lie down," he said, and she complied. He pressed two fingers against her temple. "Sleep Rose. Sleep until morning."

She closed her eyes and slipped back into slumber.

Twice during the night she made small murmuring noises, and her expression seemed to intensify for an instant then become softer. He had lowered the flame in the lantern, so he could not see her eyelids clearly, but he thought she must be dreaming. It bothered him a bit that she might have nightmares about the things he'd shown her, but after all it had been her choice to accompany him.

After a time the Doctor closed his eyes and rested, although he did not sleep. He thought about many things, and, if Rose had seen his face she would have noted a dozen expressions, most conveying anger, hurt, and despair.

But she slept on, curling more tightly into a ball as though trying to protect herself from something waiting outside in the dark, clouded night.


	4. Chapter 4

When she awoke, light was seeping in through the dusty window. Rose sat up immediately, wincing at the discomfort this action brought. Her belly felt heavy and tight, and after a moment she rolled her eyes in annoyance. She must be bloated.

With a sigh Rose swung her legs over the edge of the bed and stood. She was still wearing the Doctor's jumper, and she hoped that her own clothes—at least her jeans—were dry. She looked around to find the small building empty. Her clothes were draped over the counter, and she was pleased to find them nearly dry. She slipped on her tank top and hoodie, then she pulled on her jeans, pushing the chill from their slight dampness away. They were tight, and she had to inhale to zip them. She flinched at the pain this action caused. She pressed her hand over her belly, eyes moving to the door.

It was time for her to return to where she belonged. The thought didn't so much as strike her as it did well up from deep within her. She had always known where she needed to go, hadn't she? This was not the place for her.

She opened the door and walked out into the wan sunshine, her shoes and socks still lying on the floor.

* * *

When the Doctor returned to the building his mood was dour. He had hoped that he could find at least a trace of porquarnium on some of the mining equipment, but he'd had no such luck. That meant that he would have to take Rose to the next mine. The scans from the TARDIS had suggested that the third mine was still in use; he'd seen indicators of humans on the scanner screen. But he'd wanted to avoid interactions with the miners if possible. He disliked the thought of Rose being exposed to them; most were former prisoners, many convicted for violent crimes and choosing to come here to work rather than remaining in prison for the rest of their lives. Of course, he had not told Rose any of this. He had anticipated that they could find a few grams of the element in one of the abandoned mines then be on their way.

His mood deteriorated further when he found the building empty. He looked about quickly, noting the shoes on the floor. Perhaps Rose had gone out to one of the lavatory shacks at the edge of the complex. Sometimes he forgot that humans occasionally had to obey biological functions. They did not possess a Time Lord's supreme control over his body.

He walked toward the outhouses, looking for traces of her footprints on the muddy ground. He found none. Still, he went up to each little shack and tapped tentatively at the door as he spoke her name. When he got no response, he opened each door to check inside. Rose was not there.

Now he began to call out for her, anger and concern growing simultaneously. She should know better than to wander off… But even if she had, why would she leave her shoes? A knot of fear began to gnaw at his stomach as he remembered the men they had encountered the previous day. Rose might have been taken away against her will.

He ran back to the building where they had spent the night. Here he found tracks in the mud, but they had been made by a single individual, and she had been barefoot. They led away from the complex and away from the mine.

Frowning deeply, he retrieved his jacket and shoved his arms into the sleeves. In his haste the hem became twisted, and he straightened it absently as he began to walk. His fingers brushed against the inner pocket, and he reached inside. He pulled out the chocolate bar, unwrapped but untouched.

Rose had told him that she ate it. She had lied. He couldn't imagine why she had done that.

His pace increased as he realized that her footprints were leading back the way they had come, toward the first complex they'd found.

"Damn it, Rose, you could've at least waited for me!" he muttered when he realized that she must have decided to return to the TARDIS. "And why the hell didn't you take your shoes?"

* * *

Rose barely felt the cold mud as it squelched against her bare feet. She kept walking, her legs carrying her unfalteringly. Her stomach had begun aching even more fiercely as she started walking, but now the pain was receding. It was gradually becoming more of a warm pressure. But she did not stop to register the precise feeling. She had to continue on.

As the buildings from the hastily deserted complex came into sight, her pace increased. She was nearly there. The pressure was growing, and she placed her hand over her belly. Her other hand reached out before her as though she could grasp a necessary object that would pull her forward.

When the four men emerged from the secondary ventilation shaft, Rose stopped. She saw them, and for an instant she felt afraid. They began walking toward her, and she blinked, trying to remember why she had feared them the previous day.

Something far down in her mind urged her to turn and run, and she began to obey, but a deep pain stabbed at her abdomen, and she had to stop and bend over. She fell to her knees, trying to breathe. When she finally looked up, the men had surrounded her.

Their hands reached for her, taking her by the shoulders and arms to pull her up. She opened her mouth to protest, but the pain intensified. They led her, stumbling, a few steps, and the discomfort began to ebb.

She remembered again where she was supposed to be, and she began to relax, permitting the men to lead her to the ventilation shaft. She smiled; she was going home.

* * *

The Doctor was surprised when he found that Rose's footprints did not lead all the way back to the TARDIS. Near the deserted complex he saw that she had stopped then apparently walked around in circles. No, that wasn't right; he stooped to examine the prints more carefully.

"Damn!" he hissed when he realized that Rose's bare feet were only one set among the marks in the mud. Several pairs of larger feet, oddly also bare, had joined her. They veered away from the buildings and toward the mine.

The miners must have reappeared and taken her with them. He knew that thieves and trespassers were punished harshly on the barely civilized outer planets, but that wasn't what made him clench his fists at his sides. Rose would be one of the only women on the planet—the only woman among a group of isolated men who hadn't seen a female in a very long time.

Damn it, why the hell had she gone off on her own? He had only been at the mine for a short time. He always returned to her. She should have known better.

As he followed the prints out toward the mine, he was already programming the TARDIS in his mind. He was going to take Rose back to London the moment they were finished here… the moment he knew that she was safe.

* * *

The men kept their hands on Rose as they led her to the ventilation shaft, but really there was no need. She walked along willingly, her expression tranquil as she understood that she was returning to the place where she belonged.

The ache in her belly had not diminished; it was still there but it felt warm and alive, and it was telling her that she was doing the right thing. It was pulling her toward the shaft, then leading her down the ladder. Her arms and feet moved purposefully, catching the rungs without fear, taking her into the mine. When her feet touched the hard ground at the base of the tunnel, she relished the rough coldness of the stone. It meant that she was close, that her journey was almost over.

The tunnel was dark, but Rose did not need light. She knew where to go, and her legs took her down the passageway as surely as if she'd held the brightest torch. Three of the men walked ahead of her and one behind, although his presence was unnecessary. She would never try to leave, not now, not when she was so very close…

* * *

The Doctor reached the ventilation shaft and knelt at the edge to listen. His hearing was keen, and if anyone down there were yelling, crying, or even talking, he would be able to discern it. But he heard nothing.

He knew that Rose had descended. The mud from her feet was on the edge of the shaft, and when he reached down to touch the upper rungs of the ladder his fingers came away with more sludge. It looked as though the men had gone down into the shaft with her, forcing her to come along. She must be gagged; otherwise he was certain that she would be struggling and her vocalizations would be fierce. She was a fighter, his Rose.

And if she wasn't gagged, she was unable to cry out. She could be unconscious or… He steered his mind away from the thought. He swung his legs over the edge and found the top rung of the ladder with his feet. He began to climb down, still listening intently, and still hearing nothing but a slight rustling, possibly feet moving along.

But as he descended, the smell grew stronger. It had floral hints now, which he had not sensed the previous day. But mixed with the sweetness was the fetid odor of decay. It too had grown in strength. He hurried to finish the climb, relieved yet anxious when his feet touched the ground.

He switched on the torch. He had found some old batteries at the second complex and had been able to cobble together a single fairly strong power source he thought would provide light for at least thirty minutes. He shone the beam around the tunnel, quickly noting the remnants of muddy footprints. They seemed to lead back toward the main shaft—back to where Rose had fallen.

A very nasty feeling had begun to scritch at the back of the Doctor's mind, and it was quickly clawing its way to the surface. It was probably the smell that had first alerted him to the possibility—to the chance that Rose had not been brought here at random. And the danger she was facing was worse than anything a few men, even a few men with ravenous desires, could do to her.

He hurried forward, toward the permeating odor, hoping that he was not too late.

* * *

Rose's belly was on fire. The glow had exploded into a flame of writhing heat. She wanted to keep moving, to reach her destination, but her legs betrayed her. She sank down to her knees with a low moan, a noise of abject frustration more than pain.

She still could not see in the darkness of the tunnel, but she could hear the men moving just ahead of her. There was a rustling, and a heavy smell assaulted her senses. She was trying to stand, to force her legs to bring her up. She knew that she was close, that she would be home in a moment, if only she could get there.

A hand locked around her arm and pulled her up. She shuffled ahead, moving against the pain, drawn inextricably forward. The center of her consciousness was no longer her mind. It had shifted downward, down into her belly, where the heat told her what she needed to do. If she listened carefully, she could almost hear it speaking… Was it saying her name?

From somewhere very far away, she heard a voice calling "Rose!" It seemed for an instant as though it came from behind, from where she had been, but that was impossible. She would never go back there; she could not. The voice must be calling her forward. She moved ahead.

A dim light shone through the blackness, pale against the stone walls. Rose lifted her eyes to look at her surroundings, knowing without thought or consideration that she was home. And there ahead was the nest, the womb that welcomed her.

The leaves began to part, the thorns withdrawing back into the stalks as the vines twisted away from the pod in the center. There was something curled up among the soft shoots that lined the inside of the pod. Rose could not quite make it out—a bit of light material at the top, all white below.

The light was growing stronger, and now she could see more of the massive plant. It stretched across the base of the shaft, covering the width of the tunnel and creeping up the sides, at least four meters tall. The vines moved about, almost caressing the walls. And when she was inside, in that beautiful pod, they would caress her, soothing her, taking away the pain.

She could see one of the men kneeling to one side of the pod, parting the leaves with his hands, although they were moving back on their own. The smell—the one that made her nose wrinkle—grew stronger, and for an instant her instincts kicked in and she took a step forward to see what was causing the fetid odor.

As the man parted the vines completely, she saw a pale figure lying in a second pod. At first it appeared completely white, but then, as the light strengthened, she caught a flash of darkness in the center. She watched, transfixed, as the man fell to his knees and leaned forward, reaching out for the figure.

Rose stepped closer, drawn to the first pod almost as though a magnet pulled her. Her belly was burning even hotter, and it seemed as if it something inside of her was propelling her forward, driving her of its own volition. She tried to see the figure in the first pod more clearly, knowing that it was a part of her, that it was calling to her.

But the light shifted, and the interior fell into shadow. The second pod was suddenly illuminated. Her eyes automatically followed the light. In the pod lay a man, naked and pale, curled up upon his side. His eyes were open, staring straight ahead, and his hands lay limply at his sides. His stomach was dark, a distinct contrast to the pallor of his face, arms, and legs.

The light grew stronger, and Rose's gaze fell upon the curled man's face. It was familiar to her, somehow. She had seen it before… She blinked in confusion. She was not supposed to think, not supposed to do anything but go toward her own pod, the first one she'd seen. But that face—

The kneeling man turned slightly, reaching out to rest his hands on the head of the curled figure, and Rose saw both faces at once. They were exactly the same. She wanted to gasp, to cry out, but she could not. All she could do was obey the call within her and move to stand before the other pod.


	5. Chapter 5

The Doctor moved forward steadily, fighting the urge to run. He knew that he needed to exercise caution; whatever was waiting for Rose could prove even more dangerous if threatened. He directed the torch's beam ahead. It shone down the tunnel, twenty meters at least, but he could not see what it illuminated, as the passageway sloped downward. However, he could use his other senses to obtain some information about what lay ahead.

The smell grew stronger by the instant. It was an odd amalgamation of cloying sweetness and fusty decomposition. He was reminded for a moment of the Amorphophallus titanum, the Terran plant whose blooms seemed to reek of fleshy decay.

Finally he could see what lay ahead, at the end of the tunnel. He stopped, frozen for a moment as he took in the sight. A massive plant filled most of the shaft. Its viney branches stretched upward and out across the ground. The nearest tendril was less than a meter from his feet, and the long, sharp thorns were easily visible.

The main portion of the plant was much denser, with vines coiled tightly and heavy leaves clustered around half a dozen large pods that sat just above the root ball. The vines protected all but two of the pods, and Rose knelt before one of them. A man dressed in coveralls sat near the other one, and three other men lay among the vines, near the wall. There was something inside each pod, something light-colored. The Doctor directed the beam to the pod before Rose, but her body blocked the light. He shifted his hand to aim the torch at the other pod.

He took a few steps forward to be certain that he could see clearly, hoping that his eyes were mistaken—but he knew, with a rare pang of regret at his Time Lord arrogance, that they were not. In the pod lay the body of a man, pale and lifeless. The man's stomach, however, was dark, stained with something that stood out against the waxen skin.

He had to get closer to see the other pod. He took another step, and he felt something tug at his ankle. A glance down was all it took to realize that the tendril had coiled around his leg, its wicked thorns pressing against his jeans. He pulled his leg back, but the vine tightened. For an instant he understood how Rose must have felt when her entire body was wrapped in the plant's cruel embrace.

Looking about quickly, he spotted a heavy pick and silently thanked whatever miner had dropped it. It occurred to him suddenly that the miner had not abandoned his pick out of carelessness but rather out of duress. The Doctor lifted the tool and brought the point down upon the part of the vine that lay on the ground. It was made of tough plant fiber, and he had to strike it hard several times before he could sever it. And still the portion around his ankle clung on.

He used the end of the pick to pry it off, finding it less tenacious now that it was separated from the plant. Yet even as he flung the piece away, the vine was slithering toward him. He dodged it with a few neat steps as he moved closer to the pods and Rose.

He was close enough now to see the man and the contents of his pod clearly. His hissed in disgust when he realized that the stain on the body was blood and entrails. Something had ripped a hole in the man's abdomen, either to reach inside or to claw its way out.

"Rose!" he cried, hopping to the side to avoid the clutch of the tendril. A second one was wavering in the air, stretching up as a cobra stands to mesmerize its prey. In an instant it had leaped toward him, reaching for his arm. He propelled himself back, just out of its grasp.

"Rose!" he called again. "Come here!"

But she did not seem to hear him. He saw no response from her. Now he had to keep moving, hopping and jumping to avoid the tendrils that writhed toward him. He used the pick to strike at them, which seemed to deter each one for only a few seconds. He had to get to Rose, to pull her away from the pod. Instinctively he knew that whatever lay inside would harm her.

As he feinted to the side, he was able to shine the beam into the pod before Rose. He was not surprised to see that a body lay inside it. What shocked and appalled him was that the body had Rose's face. And, unlike the other pod's body, this one had no marks upon it; the skin was pristine and flawless.

"Rose! Get back!" he yelled, but still she did not respond. She seemed transfixed by the body in the pod.

As he watched, its hands lifted and its eyes opened. It began to uncurl itself, stretching its arms and legs out then shifting to sit up. Rose was swaying toward it, reaching out her arm to take its hand. Her other hand was pressed over her stomach, fingers spasming in pain. Her mouth was moving, and he realized that she was moaning, a bizarre sort of sound made up of both agony and ecstasy.

He had kept his eyes on Rose for too long; a tendril swept up around his calf, and another twined around his left hand. A lantern hung near him, suspended from the wall by an iron hook. Quickly he reached into his pocket for a match, whipping his hand up to light the wick. He held his breath for an instant until the flame sprang up, illuminating the shaft.

"Damn it!" he spat out, slamming the torch against the nearest vine. "Leave me alone already!" He stabbed and hacked at the vine on his hand, trying to pull his free leg away from a third vine rapidly approaching it. When he had cut the stalk, he ripped it away from his hand and bent to deliver a blow to the sinuous tendril that held his leg.

Finally freeing himself, he swung the pick at the several vines that were almost dancing around him, hopping out of reach of them and moving closer to Rose. His eyes flicked to the miner, and he watched for a moment in disgust as the man reached into the open, gaping abdominal cavity, thrusting his hand deeply inside. A faint glow emanated from the massive wound, surrounding the man's hand with a gentle light. The blank expression on the miner's face changed, and he seemed to notice his surroundings for the first time. His head rotated to look at Rose then back at the Doctor, and he began to stand.

The female body was now sitting fully upright in the pod, pulling Rose toward it. She did not resist, despite the Doctor's repeated pleas for her to step back, to move away. He hacked at the vines twisting and twitching all around him, trying to prevent him from reaching Rose.

She turned half-way, and he could see her face. It was convulsed with pain, but a strange pleasure seemed to shine in her eyes; her mouth was open slightly in an expression of awe. The female body held her wrist in one hand, and Rose grasped her shirt with the other, lifting it up, exposing her stomach.

"No, Rose, no!" the Doctor cried, watching in repulsion as the skin of her abdomen undulated and bulged, three knots rising then coalescing into one in a strange and oddly coordinated rhythm.

The female pulled Rose closer, pressing a hand over Rose's belly, over the protrusion. The face, so precisely like Rose's in its features, was blank.

"Rose!" the Doctor yelled, "look at her face!"

Rose had tilted her head back, eyes closing half-way. Her arms hung down limply at her sides. The hand against her stomach was moving, fingers curling as though it would grasp something.

One particularly tenacious tendril had wrapped around the Doctor's leg, reaching up to his thigh. He threw the torch to the ground then gripped the creeper in his hand, not even feeling the thorns stabbing into his flesh, and gave it a furious tug. It broke off in his hand, and, freed for the moment, he rushed at Rose.

He grabbed her shoulders, prepared to wrench her away, but when he tugged she remained where she was. He glanced down to see that vines were wrapped around her feet and ankles.

"Now this is just gettin' ridiculous!" he growled.

The female's fingers were pressing into Rose, into her flesh, clamping over the bulge that seemed to rise up to meet her hand. Small rivulets of blood ran down Rose's stomach as the woman's nails dug into her. He had to get her away. He wrapped his arm around her chest and pulled her back, twisting her to the side as the hand drove forward with such force that the body fell from the pod.

It landed on the mass of vines, and they stopped writhing, loosening their hold on Rose's ankles for a second or two. The Doctor yanked her up upward, one arm clamped over her chest as the other swung down to pull her legs out of the grasp of the vines.

Suddenly she seemed to snap back into full awareness. "What're you doin'?" she rasped out. "Let me go!"

She hit at him with her fists and clawed at the arm across her chest. He was side-stepping the vines, trying to hold her as he did so. But she was twisting and kicking, desperate to free herself. She began to slip from his grip.

"Stop it, Rose!" he commanded, voice booming out and echoing against the stone walls.

"Let me go!" she cried again. "I have to go. I have to—"

And her arms were reaching out to the female who tottered before her, naked and white, eyes glassy and hands stretching out to Rose.

"Look at her, Rose!" the Doctor ordered, setting her back on the ground. He took a moment to lift his hand to her face, turning her head so that she stared straight at the figure in front of her. "Rose! Look!"

She blinked, and she stopped struggling. "Oh my God."

"You have to run, Rose. Get out of here as fast as you can. Go down the tunnel until you reach the ladder—"

Rose was frozen, staring at the twin in front of her. "No," she said slowly, hand caressing her belly once more, "I have to give it to her. She needs it."

"Rose!" he was nearly screaming. He took her arm, hard, and flung her away. "Go!"

Still she paused, mesmerized. More tendrils were moving toward the Doctor, and the miner was lumbering at him as well. The Time Lord muttered a string of curses then lifted the pick. He swung it up then brought it down in a wide arc, catching the miner in the chest. The man stumbled then opened his mouth, blood welling up and burbling out over his lips. As the Doctor pulled the pick from him, he crumpled to the ground.

"You killed him!" Rose cried. "He was part of it, part of me!" She ran at him, fury etched in her face, but he lifted a hand and slammed it into her forehead, forcing her to stumble back. She cried out in pain, wrapping her arm around her stomach.

The woman's fingers were twitching, clasping as she reached out again. Rose was crying, hands pressing over the moving flesh in her belly.

"She needs it," she sobbed. "She has to have it—"

"No, Rose, she doesn't." The Doctor's voice was firm yet icily calm as he caught the woman's hair in his hand, pulling her head back to hold her firmly. Her face—Rose's face—was inches from his own, and for an instant he hesitated, wanting to spare her, hating to do this to the thing that looked exactly like his friend.

Rose was pummeling him with her fists, screaming in rage and pain and frustration. The woman's hand shot out again, and the Doctor jerked her to the side, bringing up the pick to catch her just beneath the sternum. The tool slid into her, deeply, and her mouth opened in a reflexive response.

Rose shrieked then froze, watching in horror as her twin began to fall. The Doctor pushed the body back, and it landed next to the pod, crushing a heavy cluster of vines. The tendrils stilled for a moment. A sweet scent permeated the air, stronger than it had been before, and the Time Lord noticed the flowers blooming on this part of the plant for the first time.

When Rose gasped, he turned back to her. She was staring at her stomach, at the bulge, as though she realized finally that it should not be there. "Oh my God, oh God," she murmured. She looked up at him. "Get it out!" she pleaded. "You have t' get it out!"

He took her arm, preparing to run as the tendrils began creeping upward again. But something among the flowers had caught his eye, and he spun back, pushing the woman's lifeless body away and tearing at the vines. Beneath them he found a quivering, unctuous mass of roots. He still held the pick, and he lifted it high in the air. Vines had wrapped around his legs, and a quick glance back at Rose showed that she was similarly ensnared.

He swung the pick with all his strength, hitting the center of the ball. The vines around his legs tightened for an instant then grew slack. He stepped out of them and hacked at the root ball until it lay in shreds. He grabbed the lantern, pouring kerosene over the pieces then lighting the mass with a match.

He stepped back, surveying the massive plant, finally seeing the dozens of decomposing bodies that lay wrapped in the vines all along the walls. He felt nauseous; he had to draw a deep breath to keep from vomiting.

Rose was still sobbing, and he hurried back to her, taking her arm gently and leading her away as the fire grew and consumed the remnants of the roots. It began spreading up the stalks, filling the chamber with smoke.

The Doctor put his arm around Rose and hurried down the passageway. She was still crying, still gripping her stomach, but he didn't dare to stop. He ran, dragging her along, until they reached the ladder at the ventilation shaft. He lifted her, but she was still clutching at her stomach, her eyes glazed in shock and fear. She could not grasp the ladder on her own, so he stepped up to the first rung, keeping a firm grip on her arm. He climbed up, pulling Rose behind, knowing that he should be careful with her but also realizing the urgency needed to escape the mine. Smoke was already rising up the shaft, and he couldn't be certain that he had killed the plant.

When he reached the top, he managed to pull himself out with one strong arm while still holding Rose. Then he hauled her up, drawing her back from the shaft entrance several meters before collapsing on the ground. She lay next to him while he caught his breath.

After a few moments he sat up. She was still crying, but softly now, and her hands continued to grip her stomach.

"Rose." He touched her face, brushing the hair away.

She looked up at him, eyes wide. "Get—it—out," she gasped.

Gently he moved her hands away. The gouges left by her twin's fingernails stood out on the pale, silky skin. He pressed his hand over her belly, softly at first then with more pressure. She was panting; he could feel her muscles moving as she inhaled and exhaled, and the pulse in the mesenteric artery was pounding, but her abdomen was smooth.

"It's gone," he said, relief flooding through him.

"No, it was there—it was tryin' to get out," she countered, sitting up and staring at her stomach. She began prodding her abdomen, kneading deeply with frantic fingers.

He took her hands, pulling them away. "I can't feel anythin' now. It's gone."

"But it can't be—"

"I think when I destroyed the root it was destroyed, too."

She was blinking at him in disbelief, shaking her head. Her hands, still clasped in his, were shaking. "It was in me," she began.

But he took her in his arms and held her, stroking her hair with his hand. She trembled against him, sobbing again. After a few minutes he helped her to stand then led her across the rocky plain, back toward the TARDIS.

**

* * *

****_Epilogue_**

Rose sat curled in an armchair, a mug of hot cocoa warming her hands. She took a sip and permitted herself a small smile when she realized that the Doctor had put tiny marshmallows in the chocolate. Her eyes wandered up to the lofty arches of the console room ceiling.

The Doctor had wanted her to remain in the infirmary, even after he'd completed the tests, but she felt safer here, more comfortable. She still had a bit of a chill, and she pulled the blanket around her shoulders.

When the Doctor entered a few minutes later, his expression told her that his news would be positive. Still, she needed to hear it.

"There's no sign of anythin' foreign in your body," he said. "An' there's no organ, vascular, or muscle damage, either."

Rose nodded, glad for the words but still confused. "I don't understand. There was somethin' in me. I could feel it, an' I could see it—hell, Doctor, you saw it, too."

He sat on the arm of the chair, pensive for a moment. "Yeah, I did." He looked down at her, traces of anxiety still on his face. "I think it was energy—a mass of energy that was drawn from the energy in your body's cells. The only unusual thing I found in your tests was a slight disruption in your cells' ability to produce energy. It was almost as if they'd been drained temporarily."

"Drained?"

"Yeah. But don't worry—they're recharging even now. There shouldn't be any long-term effects." He reached for her hand. "How're you feelin'? Still cold?"

"Just a little. The chocolate's helpin'."

He nodded. "That's the shock, mostly. I still wish you'd let me give you somethin' for it—"

She shook her head. "I'll be okay."

"Yeah." He squeezed her hand softly.

She was quiet for a time, then she spoke again. "D' you know how it all worked? How that thing—that thing that looked like me—got there?"

"It was cultivated from your DNA," he replied. "Thorns poked you, an' they extracted your DNA from the tiny bits of skin and blood that were stuck to them."

"So it was like cloning, yeah?"

"Just about."

"But it was so fast! It was only a day—"

"Time, Rose, can be relative. It may have been much longer for the plant."

Rose considered this. "Yeah? Weird. An' that thing in me—I know you said it was energy, but what exactly was it? Why was it there?"

"The thorn that punctured your stomach—the one that went in the deepest—left somethin' in your abdominal cavity, some little bit of energy that was able to draw more energy from your own cells an' grow into what you felt and saw. The clone needed the energy to be fully animate; it had your DNA, but it didn't have your life force. It needed that from you to be able to function at more than a rudimentary level. An' because the energy came from the plant, it was able to draw you back."

"The miners, Doctor…" She paused, vaguely recalling what she'd seen in the plant's chamber. "They were clones, too, weren't they?"

He nodded gravely. "The plant must've attacked them while they were working, when it was tryin' to gain strength an' expand. Once it had extracted their DNA, it used their bodies for food. There was probably a cycle—make a clone, digest the original body, then digest the clone. An' if the clones could go out an' find more bodies, even better." He shook his head in disgust.

"I think," he continued, "the dead bodies were stored in the pods after each clone was animated—it was easier for the root cluster to begin its absorption that way—then the bodies were moved out to the vines after the roots had finished."

"So the man in the pod—that was one of the miners."

"Yeah."

"Don't plants take in their food through their roots, though? How could the vines soak up nutrients?"

"Good question, Rose." He smiled his approval at her thinking. "You actually answered that yourself when you asked me about the plant needing sunlight. This plant thrived on the elements found in the human body—it didn't require photosynthesis. It absorbed what it needed directly from the bodies, probably through the thorns. Now that I think of it, maybe plant isn't the right term for it at all—"

He was lost in thought until Rose spoke again.

"Wha' about the other miners? The ones at the other mines? Did it get them, too?"

"I don't know." He stood. "But I'm gonna send a message back to the planet. If they have any functioning receivers—an' the scanners indicate that they do—they'll pick it up."

Rose nodded. "I hope it'll help."

"Me too."

He walked to the console and began typing at one of the keyboards. After he'd finished, he turned back to her. She was growing sleepy, her body finally giving in to the effects of the terrible experience. He saw her eyes closing half-way. The blanket had slipped, so he went to her and tucked it back around her shoulders.

"Mmm—" She opened her eyes. "What about the pork?" she asked sleepily.

He smiled, for once not even tempted to correct her. "Guess I forgot to mention that porquarnium was the other element the plant used for nutrition. There were traces of it in the leaves and thorns I had on my clothes. I should be able to extract enough to fix the sonic screwdriver."

Her eyelids were lowering again, but she jerked up for a second, looking at him with half-dazed eyes. "You had to kill me," she murmured.

He sighed, wishing that she hadn't remembered that dreadful moment. "It wasn't you, Rose," he said softly.

"But she looked just like me…" She yawned.

"Yeah, she did." His voice held sadness and regret.

"Hey," she said, words slightly slurred in her half-sleep. "You saw me naked."

He couldn't help but smile. "Told you, Rose, it wasn't you."

"Close enough," she sighed, then her eyes closed all the way, and her head sank back against the chair.

He bent and slid an arm under her legs and the other around her back. He began to lift her.

"What're you doin'?" she mumbled, eyes still closed.

"Putting you to bed."

"Mmm, no. Wanna stay here."

"You'll rest better in bed."

"Uhn…better… here with you."

He settled her back into the chair and watched her for a moment as her breathing evened out and her body finally relaxed into deep slumber.

"Yeah," he said, voice barely a whisper, "better here with you, too."


End file.
